Look
by Aldira
Summary: Part 3 of the Unaccountable Series. Was it too much to ask for someone to just pay attention to him?


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warnings: OOC-ness

Notes: Written for the Psychological AU Competition (histrionic personality disorder).

 **Look**

It wasn't fair. It wasn't _fair_. It _just_ wasn't **fair**!

Why. Why was _he_ the forgotten one? Why did no one care about _him_? Just what was it that made him so useless, so boring, so _plain_?

Smile. Don't forget to smile.

 _Look at me._ _ **Look**_ _at me, and_ _ **only**_ _me._

* * *

Ronald noticed, ever since he was young, that there were only a few ways to garner attention in the Weasley household.

The first would, of course, be medical attention. His parents would come rushing in when one of the many children managed to injure themselves. As they grew older though, the number of injuries steadily declined, and even if they did get hurt, it was usually minor and their parents went uninformed of the insignificant incident. Except in the case of Ginny.

As the youngest of the family and the only daughter, she was spoiled beyond belief. And when she was hurt, Ginny wanted everyone to know, loud and clear. A crying, shrieking mess with irregular blotches of red peppering her gritty face until her father swooped in with quick reassurances and a promise of an ice cream cone. Fifteen minutes later, she was perfectly fine, happily licking a chocolate ice cream scoop and a bandage neatly pressed on her knee. Seeing this, the next time Ronald got hurt in a game of roughhousing with his older brothers, he burst into tears, expecting similar results. All he got was a firm lecture on "manning up" and some teasing from Fred and George.

Ronald knew to hold back his tears the next time he received an elbow to the head.

The second would be positive attention. Praise for scoring high on a test, a proud clap on the shoulder for winning a trophy or medal. And since there was no way that he will ever receive those, there was no point in looking for positive attention.

And that only left negative attention.

Ronald had seen it on multiple occasions, mostly directed at the twins and whatever they managed to concoct next in their line of mischief. But, wasn't negative attention better than being ignored?

* * *

The disappointed look in his parents' eyes as he brought home his report card, the proud grin slipping off his face.

 _"Why don't you try a bit harder in school? Percy never got a C."_

It wasn't like he was failing in class. He got decent grades. Why wasn't that enough?

The constant comparisons.

 _"Oh. I guess you're not like Fred and George, huh? Now_ _ **those**_ _were some cool guys," the kid said before running back to the other children, leaving Ronald behind with slightly dimmer eyes._

At school.

 _"Charlie could run so much faster," his coach would say, a slight frown on his face as he stared down at Ronald's panted, slumped form on the ground. His hopes broke a little more._

Even at home.

 _"Why can't you be a better son?"_

* * *

Biting his lip to hold back the tears of frustration, Ronald resisted the urge to lash out. Why wasn't he ever _good_ enough. He wanted to scream in their faces, tell them to just **shut up** for one minute and listen for once. Punch Percy in smug face and tell him to "get on his level," throw back his stupid words that probably shouldn't have hurt so much. Watch as his mother's ever reprimanding mouth gape into silence as he proceeded to list off everything that was lacking about _her_. Hands clenching into fists, Ronald felt a deep sense of vengeance and fury, twisting nauseatingly in a dark swirl, rising up to rest firmly within his chest, throbbing with desire to just SHOW THEM WHAT HE WAS CAPABLE OF

He didn't do any of those things. Just stared at his mother until she tired herself from her rant, leaving him in the kitchen with the broken remnants of his shattered hopes on the floor.

* * *

Ronald was sixteen when he decided that he'd had enough. If no one paid attention to him when he was good, then he'd just have to be bad.

* * *

"Ron! Hey, man, what's up?" Seamus greeted him, hand outstretched. Ron smirked, strutting forward, pulling Seamus in and clapping his shoulder.

"I honestly didn't expect to see you here. You were completely knackered last night," Ron said, raising his eyebrows mockingly.

"Hey, hey, hey, you can't not invite me to a party and expect me to stay sober. That's like illegal in Seamus' world, okay?"

The two walked into the school, crowd immediately parting, staring and whispering. And Ron loved every moment of it. A swell of pride surged in his chest. He had caused all this. The fear, the grudging respect. It was exhilarating.

"RON!" A high pitched yell broke through the hallway, causing everyone in the vicinity to flinch.

"And here we go," Ron heard Seamus mutter under his breath. To be perfectly honest, he agreed with Seamus' sentiment. Lavender was as dumb as a stick, but she was pretty and loved to shower him with attention, so Ron could deal with it.

There was a flurry of brown and pink before a body attached itself to him. The strong scent of flowers assaulted his nose, making his eyes water slightly, but he paid no mind to that as a pair of lips hungrily attacked his and a pair of smooth legs wrapped around his waist enticingly, knocking him back a step. Ron quickly adjusted to the new weight, running a hand appreciatively up an exposed thigh. He turned to the side, slamming her against the lockers. She let out an annoyed huff, but when his tongue slipped inside her mouth, all protests at the rough treatment melted away. Lavender was such a slut, rubbing herself against his midsection without a care in the world, disregarding the people around them. But Ron didn't forget. He basked in the attention they were getting, a combination of disbelief, disgust, and lust.

"Can't keep it in your pants until after school, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Brown?" A dark voice asked derisively.

And the show comes to an end. Ron rolled his eyes as he detached himself from Lavender who blushed at the intrusion, remembering where they were. She slipped to the ground silently, face a dark red as she pulled down her hiked up skirt.

"It would be greatly appreciated if you didn't desecrate this school any further," Severus Snape sneered, staring down his crooked nose at them.

"Looks like the crusty, old bat decided to come out of its cave," Ron drawled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark, ripped jeans. Lavender tittered nervously at his statement, looking back and forth between the two. Seamus shifted uncomfortably, staring determinedly at the floor.

"Detention, you two, for indecency on campus grounds," Snape stated firmly, narrowing his eyes at the redhead before turning around so sharply that his lab coat billowed out behind him.

Once he was out of sight, Seamus let out a loud, dramatic sigh, holding his hand against his chest.

"God, he scares the crap out of me. I almost pissed my pants," he said.

Ron huffed. "He's just a greasy bastard. It's not like he can do anything."

"You're just lucky the headmistress likes you, otherwise you'll be cast out of the school faster than you can say, 'Treacle tart!'"

Ron shrugged uncaringly as they slowly made their way to class.

* * *

"Don't you have detention with Snape?"

"Another detention, Ron? Seriously?" Dean asked in exasperation.

Ron scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Nah, I'm gonna bail. No way am I spending any more time than necessary with that motherfucker."

He jogged a little ahead of them, waving at them slightly.

"I have to take care of some stuff. See you guys tomorrow!"

Ron walked the rest of the way home, playing on his phone until he reached his street. Opening the door of his house, he tossed his backpack inside, slamming the door close, ignoring his mother's question. You'd think that after two years of him coming and going as he pleased she would finally take a hint.

Stretching languidly, he strolled to the old warehouse at the edge of the city.

* * *

Wearing a bandana around his face, the hood of his leather jacket pulled over his head, Ron carried the boxes filled with their questionable contents into the warehouse. The other guys around him worked quietly and efficiently. Ron grunted as he was handed another box but stopped just outside the doors to stare at the setting sun. He felt oddly tranquil here, with random strangers who were only doing this for money, just like him. Ron didn't have to pretend to be someone else.

The sudden whirring of sirens startled him. Immediately dropping the box, Ron took off in a dead sprint when he saw the others take off. He had close encounters before with the police when he was on night outs with his friends, but Ron knew for sure that what he was doing now would definitely not be tolerated.

The pounding of footsteps echoed somewhere behind him as the other guys dispersed as well. Ron didn't dare look back, turning into a nearby alley and climbing over a metal fence, running a few more blocks before ducking behind some trashcans. Collapsing on the ground with his back against a cool brick wall of a building, Ron panted, tugging up his fallen bandana to muffle the sound.

Adrenaline mixed with fear coursed through his veins. He had almost been caught. What if he had been caught, if he was a second later in his reaction time? Jail. Ron was sure of it. But he was only a senior in high school. He couldn't go to jail. No. Life couldn't end for him right now. There was still so much to do, so much to live for. His breath hitched. He shut his eyes tiredly, hearing the distant siren wail in the background, letting out a shuddering breath before hauling himself up.

Cautiously, Ron dragged his feet home, jumping at sudden noises. He scoffed at his own behavior but couldn't seem to still the tremor in his hands.

Somehow, he managed to find his way home, passing the kitchen where his family sat chattering amongst themselves. Ron quietly trudged up the stairs. He wasn't feeling hungry.

He fell onto his bed, staring at the ceiling for a second or two before leaping back up to pace around his room. Ron ruffled his hair in agitation. He was too restless, butterflies fluttering nervously in the pit of his stomach.

He spotted a box on top of his desk. His new game must have come in, and Ginny must have brought it to his room for him, so their mom wouldn't notice. Ron silently thanked his sister, promising to buy her something next time.

Maybe playing would loosen up some of his anxiety. As he went to open the box, Ron noticed a letter shoved under some notebooks.

His eyes widened as he remembered the contents of the letter. It offered a new scenery, a new change of pace. It would probably do him good if he left this place.

Hesitantly, his hands reached for the white envelope and flipped open the flap to read the letter once more.


End file.
